Violet
by letpurplereign
Summary: Violet as a baby; Emily figuring it out. I don't know? I hate summaries.
1. Chapter 1

**July 1999**

"I don't know what else we can do," Sia sighs, closing the manila folder she's holding and dropping it onto the table that's covered in identical others. "Every time we get even a hair closer to this guy, he evades us."

Emily exhales, trying to deduce if this wave of nausea is going to pass or if she needs to bolt from the room.

She hasn't told anyone at work that she's pregnant. She hasn't even told David.

"Emily?" Sia says quietly.

"Sorry," Emily clears her throat, willing the nausea away. "Yeah. He knows what he's doing..."

Sia tilts her head at Emily.

"Why don't you take the rest of the day off?" Sia suggests. "You've gone from paler than usual to green, and I will _not _be happy with you if you throw up in my office."

Emily half-smiles at the mock-serious tone.

"I'm fine," she assures Sia.

They've worked for the CIA together for a year and a half. She's the closest thing Emily has to a friend.

"You're green," Sia repeats.

Emily takes a breath, closing the folder she's been trying to focus on. Sia watches her.

"How far along are you?" she asks plainly.

Emily's gaze moves to meet Sia's. They exchange looks: one knowing, one stubborn to share.

"Eight weeks, give or take," Emily finally murmurs. "And I'd rather people not know."

"Does a certain Englishman know?" Sia raises an eyebrow.

Emily glances at her tiredly as she leans forward to let her head rest against her palms.

She has always been a private person. She and David have kept their...whatever it is, quiet.

"Obviously this was a…surprise," Sia states.

"Quite a startling one," Emily exhales, reaching for the nearby can of ginger ale.

"Must be some kid, then, if it got through all of those barriers," Sia teases.

"Better cure cancer or discover another planet," Emily mutters. "I wasn't exactly planning on motherhood."

"Really?" Sia asks, surprised.

"I'm not exactly motherly," Emily replies dryly.

"Says who? You?"

Emily looks at her, puzzled.

"You'll make an amazing mother, Emily," Sia says, her tone softer than Emily thinks she's ever heard it. "I've watched you work cases for almost two years. You're compassionate, strong, smart, kind…. The only thing a little off here is the other half of this baby. But with you as its mother, I think it'll all work out."

She gives Emily a knowing look. It's no secret that Sia doesn't like David. She finds him pompous and narcissistic, too into his own self and not good enough for Emily.

"When are you going to tell him?" Sia asks.

"What makes you think I'm going to?"

Sia scoffs a little chuckle. "You're not going to abort this baby, I know you well enough to know that. But we both know David doesn't exactly scream 'father of the year'."

Emily lets her brow raise and fall in dry agreement. She exhales, taking another sip of ginger ale but halfway through she realizes that this bout of nausea isn't kidding around. She bolts from her chair and hurries from Sia's office, leaving the woman standing there, shaking her head.

* * *

"David, we need to talk," Emily murmurs as he nuzzles her neck, his hands beginning to wander.

She knows whatever this thing is with David isn't set in stone. He's not exactly known throughout the company as a monogamous family man. But she still wants this baby to have a father. David, however, is more concerned with undressing Emily than listening to her.

"We can talk after," he says into her ear, his breath tickling her.

She blinks slowly, wanting him but still wary of the nausea, which is doubled because she's nervous about sharing this news with him.

He finishes unbuttoning her shirt and begins to slide it down her shoulders as he stands behind her, letting his fingers trace along her torso. He kisses her neck so he can taste the sweetness of her skin.

"It's important," she says, opening her eyes and turning around.

His eyes are immediately drawn to her breasts and he pulls her toward him, eager for her. He grabs for her chest and she inhales sharply. She hadn't expected the tenderness to start so early. She doesn't want him or anyone else near her chest right now, it's so sore.

"David," she says, more firmly.

She grabs his hands, forcing him to stop and look at her. She looks into his icy green eyes with their thick, dark lashes.

She loves to way he looks at her, constantly hungry and her body is his only craving. This relationship they've been fiddling with has been more about passionate, clawing sex than meaningful intimacy. She may love the look in his eyes when he feasts them on her, but she's never sat down and considered marrying him.

The last few days have given her a chance to think about everything, and she knows he won't be thrilled by the news. He's never expressed any desire about being a father, and the one time Emily saw him around a child, a coworker's toddler, David had gone from revulsion to blunt disregard, as if the child simply wasn't there.

He looks into Emily's eyes now and grins, his handsome face and piercing eyes making him look like a modern-day Adonis.

She knows what will happen after she tells him. She's half tempted to let this moment happen — one last fervent night together — before she risks tossing it all away. Because she would. She would already choose the baby growing inside her over the man standing before her, his perfect body carved in marble and his hands eager to fill his palms with her.

She stares into the verdurous green of his eyes and does what is familiar to her — she disengages further. She never lets herself get too close, and she has a talent for unlatching herself from people altogether.

"I'm pregnant," she says, her voice quiet but solid; unwavering.

The spark in David's eyes is extinguished and replaced by a hard glitter. His hands, one palming her ass while the other presses against her back, pulling him to her, at once go limp. He releases her and she feels it fully. But it doesn't hurt.

"I…" he begins, taken aback. "We were careful."

Emily shrugs slowly. "Nothing's 100 per cent," she replies, suddenly very aware that she's shirtless.

She leans forward, behind him, and plucks her shirt from his bed.

"I know we haven't really had a conversation," she begins, comfortably sliding the shirt on.

"No," David replies, his tone suddenly firm and serious; not typical in the way he speaks to her. "We haven't."

Emily buttons her shirt.

Her heart beats a little more obviously in her chest but to David she seems as she always does — stoic, enduring Emily Prentiss, an agent he admires and a woman he lusts for.

"I'm not that type of man," David says, as Emily lifts her hair from the back of the now-buttoned shirt. "Fatherhood has never…appealed to me."

"I figured," Emily replies. "I don't expect anything from you. But I think you should be a part of the baby's life. She — or he — should know you."

David takes a step away from her and for Emily, it's a wall he's helping her build.

"Emily," he begins, now avoiding her eyes.

She hides the tiniest half-smile, a little surprised by his attitude. He sees it, though.

"What?" he asks, his eyes tracing her lips; offended by the smirk.

"Nothing," she replies, allowing the grin to show more as she bends down to zip up a boot. "I've just never seen you this way."

"What way?" he frowns, and she sees the hard, glacial man he is to the rest of the world.

She zips up the other boot and stands up to face him fully.

"Pitiful," she shrugs, "for someone who wants the world to think he's such a great man."

She sees his jaw clench and considers it payment for her time.

"Look, David," she says, sliding her arms into her jacket as he stands there with his shirt undone, still half-swollen against his expensive, tailored suit. "I never expected us to get married. Hell, I never expected us to turn into anything real. But this baby is real, and I'm keeping it. You can either be a man and take responsibility, or you can…"

She conjures up the little half-grin again, tossing in a look of derision just because she can.

"Be David," she finishes. "Your call."

* * *

On the way back to her London apartment, Emily's adrenaline causes her left leg to jostle constantly.

She doesn't love David. She never did.

So why does she feel so wired right now?

She's spent so long making sure she's always composed; immovable, that it takes a literal shifting of her focus for her to let her guard down when she's alone.

Only Emily Prentiss has ever seen Emily Prentiss crack.

She hurries into her flat and locks the door before darting to the bathroom and retching out the contents of her stomach.

When she's empty, she sits on the hard tile and stares out the doorway into the stylish but rather un-lived in space. She's rarely here. It looks more like a hotel than the home of a 29-year-old woman.

_I have to move_, she realizes, her palm coming to absently rest against her abdomen. _I have to get a two-bedroom. For the baby. _

The sentence…_for the baby_…strikes her as so unfamiliar that it feels foreign in her mind. But she's never been one to back down from anything. She was raised by Elizabeth Prentiss to be strong and dauntless.

She gets up and rinses her mouth out in the bathroom sink. Holding back her long, dark hair she looks at herself into the mirror. She stands up and stares into her own eyes, already wondering if the baby will have these raven-coloured eyes, or if they'll inherit the frosty green of David's.

What if she has to look into David's eyes for the rest of her life?

She pushes the negativity from her mind. Whatever happens, whoever it is who's flourishing in the warm cocoon of her belly right now, she will love them.

She will love him or her enough for both she and David, because she knows this baby will never call him Daddy.


	2. Chapter 2

**Eight months pregnant...**

"Everything's perfect," Dr. Wentz smiles, removing the ultrasound from Emily's stomach. "The baby's tiny but I don't think it's a health issue. You said you were a small baby?"

"Six pounds, yeah," Emily replies, sitting up after wiping the jelly from her swollen stomach.

"You can expect about the same weight for this little one," the doctor grins.

Emily smiles, relieved.

Her mother has been pressing her to find out the sex of the baby, but Emily was determined from the start to have it be a surprise.

"Have you started your mat leave yet?" Dr. Wentz asks.

"Not yet," Emily replies, expecting the slightly disapproving look.

"Emily, you can't be on your feet all day," the doctor scolds.

"I've been doing a lot of paperwork," Emily assures her. "It's not like I'm traipsing around London with this huge belly, chasing down serial killers."

Dr. Wentz shakes her head at Emily.

"Mat leave," she tells her sternly. "Now."

Emily sighs, sitting up slowly. It's still so odd to see this belly when she looks down, and it's even more odd to try to sleep or do anything, really, with it. But she's constantly rubbing the underside of her growing belly, wanting he or she to feel the comfort of their mother.

* * *

Two weeks later, a knock sounds on the door of Emily's half-packed apartment. She opens it to find her mother standing there, regal as ever in a scarlet skirt suit.

"Mom," Emily says, surprised.

"I know you said not to come," Elizabeth waves dismissively as she steps inside and places a kiss on Emily's cheek. "But I will not sit in Paris and wait to meet my grandchild, nor will I let my only child give birth all alone."

Emily feels her eyes tingle. She hates it. Hormones are horrible, horrible curses put on pregnant women and she can't wait until the smallest thing _doesn't _make her cry.

Elizabeth rests a palm against Emily's porcelain cheek and smiles warmly before she pats it gently and walks further into the apartment.

Emily and her mother have never been overly close; the kind of mother and daughter who consider each other best friends. Elizabeth can drive her crazy and Emily knows exactly how to rile her mother up a little bit, but Elizabeth has been a pillar of strength for Emily during this pregnancy.

Emily had been nervous to share the news with her mother, but Elizabeth had done her daughter the courtesy of not saying 'I told you so,' when she learned of David's choice to abandon Emily and the baby. She was a firm believer in women taking care of themselves, and she raised her daughter not to depend on a man.

"Oh, darling, are you sure this is best? All of these boxes around, in the way?" Elizabeth frowns.

"It's fine, Mom," Emily closes the door, walking into the main room where her mother stands. "By the time the baby's here, we'll be in Verona. I've already got everything ready."

"You've already found a house?" Elizabeth asks, a little surprised.

"Of course I have," Emily replies, frowning.

"Don't get upset, darling, I was just planning on taking care of that for you," Elizabeth replies, fully aware of a pregnant woman's moods and not about to rouse Emily into one.

Elizabeth considers Emily carefully.

"How are you feeling?" she asks, touching Emily's forehead gently.

"Like a planet," Emily replies dryly, moving to sit down on the couch. "And yet the doctor says the baby is only about six pounds."

"Like mother, like daughter," Elizabeth replies, sitting down beside Emily and picking up a baby name book from the coffee table.

"And if it's a boy?" Emily raises an eyebrow.

"It's not," Elizabeth replies confidently, opening to see where Emily has flagged certain pages of the book.

Emily's body jerks slightly as she feels a slight cramp.

"What is it?" Elizabeth demands.

"Nothing," Emily waves a hand. "Just Braxton-Hicks. I had them yesterday, too. The doctor said it's common."

"Well, yes, they're common, but are you sure it's not labour?" Elizabeth asks, looking at Emily with concern.

"I still have three weeks to go," Emily replies.

Elizabeth raises her brow as she takes a breath before leaning back into the couch.

* * *

Emily wakes up with a start. She looks around, confused, at her dark bedroom, wondering why she's awake. Another stab of pain causes her to jerk forward, clutching her stomach.

"Oh, fuck," she mutters.

"Emily?" she hears, and a moment later her mother is walking quickly into her bedroom.

"Mom, what are you doing here?" Emily frowns.

Elizabeth had told Emily that she got a room at a nearby hotel, but it's 4:30 AM and Elizabeth is still dressed and looking wide awake and ready for a board meeting, in a pair of slacks and a sweater.

"I don't want you alone when you're this close to the due date," Elizabeth replies, coming to the bedside to check on her daughter.

"It's just those cramps again," Emily murmurs tiredly. "And I have to pee. For the tenth time since I went to bed."

Elizabeth helps her daughter to manoeuvre herself out of bed. Just when she gets upright, standing up, Emily feels a slight pop and then both Prentiss women look down to witness the steady stream of fluid the pools on the floor.

"Wha…what the hell is that?" Emily stares, suddenly terrified and confused, even though she knows exactly what it is.

"Alright," Elizabeth says calmly, grabbing Emily's go-bag and leading them to the door. "Everything's fine. Don't worry, sweetheart. Everything's fine."

"It's too early!" Emily cries, letting her mother lead her towards the door. "It's too soon!"

"Eight and a half months is a perfectly viable pregnancy," Elizabeth assures her daughter.

She wraps a coat around Emily to protect her from the chilly February air and maintains a calm exterior, even though she's instantly worried for her daughter and her grandchild. Slowly, they make their way downstairs.

* * *

"The baby's fine, Emily," Dr. Wentz reassures. "Just a little eager to meet mommy, I think."

Emily tries to smile but the contractions are tearing her in two and she's trying to breathe through the pain.

"Deep breaths, darling," Elizabeth reminds her.

For all the times Emily fought with her mother or was annoyed by her, she's infinitely grateful to have her beside her now, letting Emily crush her hand with each contraction.

Emily tries to control her breathing but a forceful contraction rips through her.

"MOTHERFU—"

"Alllllright, darling, deep breaths," Elizabeth cuts her off.

"I want the drugs," Emily pants. "Give me the drugs."

"It's too late, Emily," Dr. Wentz replies, as nurses help her into a smock and gloves. "The baby's crowning."

"What?" Emily stares, horrified.

"Those weren't Braxton-Hicks, honey," Dr. Wentz replies gently. "You've been in labour for about 24 hours, I'm guessing. And this baby is ready to come out."

_But what if_ I'm_ not ready? _Emily thinks to herself.

But she assertively shoves that thought from her mind, focusing on the baby that she's finally about to meet.

She listens to her mother and Dr. Wentz, telling her when to push and when to breathe. She feels like it's all a hazy, excruciating dream as people encourage her and pat a cool cloth against her forehead. She's pretty sure the bottom half of her body is torn apart but she bites down on the pain, never crying out. Instead, she yells. Elizabeth isn't surprised. Emily's always had a rather extensive vocabulary and had begun expressing her emotions with words around age 13, and she's never been a crier.

Elizabeth learned to live with it long ago, so she encourages the 'goddammits' and 'Jesus Christs' that fly from Emily's mouth as she struggles to push the baby from her body.

"One more, Emily," Dr. Wentz says encouragingly. "Big push."

Emily takes several quick breaths before she musters up the last of her strength and focuses it on expelling the pain. Everything she's read has said that as soon as the baby is out, the pain disappears, because you see your baby and everything else disappears.

She focuses and bears down, pushing until she's sure she'll pass out.

And suddenly, a tiny cry fills Emily's ears and she looks down her baby enters the world.

"It's a girl!" Dr. Wentz smiles holding up the tiny, crying baby.

Emily had demanded the kangaroo care aspect of birth, so her daughter is immediately placed on her chest.

Emily can barely see through the tears filling her eyes, but the image of the little girl's face is immediately emblazoned in her memory. Elizabeth Prentiss's eyes swim as she looks down at her daughter and granddaughter. Speechless, she just watches her daughter, who was so terrified of not being a good mother, expertly cradle the impossibly tiny baby. Within moments the baby's cries subside and Emily laughs through her tears as her baby girl looks at her.

"Hi, baby," she whispers through her tears. "Oh my god, you're so beautiful."

The tears won't stop and when she looks up and sees her mother's own tears streaming down her face, her heart feels ready to burst.

Emily's eyes are immediately back on her baby, and she can't get enough of her. She searches every inch of her face, and in seconds she's connected to this tiny girl in her arms. She knows that she will do whatever it takes to make sure her daughter is safe and happy and loved.

A nurse carefully wipes down the baby as she rests against her mother's chest, and Emily quietly talks to her, running her fingers over the thick black hair; taking in the impossibly long, perfect eyelashes; marvelling at the long fingers and immaculate fingernails.

"She's perfect," Elizabeth whispers beside Emily, staring in awe at her daughter and granddaughter. "She's absolutely perfect."

Emily smiles through her tears, unable to look away from the tiny, beautiful face of her baby.

The large eyes blink slowly as the warmth of her mother's body, the scent that she breathes in, soothes her. The inky dark blue eyes that all baby's are born with will eventually morph into a dark forest-green. Emily remembers, for a brief moment, her fear that the baby would be all David. But now, as she looks at her daughter, she sees nothing to invoke his memory.

"She looks exactly like you," Elizabeth murmurs, her eyes still full as she smiles at her daughter.

Emily looks at her and a half-laugh, half-sob escapes her mouth. Elizabeth presses a kiss to Emily's forehead and then to her granddaughter's satiny smooth cheek.

"Violet," Emily murmurs, entranced with her baby.

The little girl blinks her inky, dark eyes to meet her mother's and another tear escapes Emily's eye as she smiles.

"Yes. You're Violet."


	3. Chapter 3

"My god, Prentiss. She's bloody tiny," Clyde Easter stares at two-day old Violet, resting in a bassinet beside her mother's hospital bed.

Emily chuckles at the horrified expression on her friend's face.

"She's small, not diseased, Clyde," she replies, leaning to look more closely at her sleeping daughter.

"I wasn't insulting her," Clyde replies quickly. "Either of you. I'm just...well, I s'ppose I've never even held a baby before. She's alright, then?"

"Perfectly healthy," Emily replies with a relaxed smile.

"When are they letting you out of this bastille?" Clyde asks, stepping over to sit in the chair beside Emily's bed. He wrinkles his nose at the hospital smell.

"Tonight, hopefully," Emily rolls her eyes.

Dr. Wentz had kept Emily in the hospital due to some bleeding and a slight reaction to some of the drugs they'd given her.

"If I deny the night nurse my child again, I think she might drug me and steal her," Emily mutters quietly. "If I don't knock her out first."

Clyde chuckles.

"What d'you mean?"

"They try to take her to the nursery," Emily replies with an annoyed shake of her head. "Why would she need to be there when I'm here? This one nurse literally tried to lift Violet from my arms."

Clyde chuckles again, amused.

"There it is," he grins.

"What?" she asks with a frown.

"The Mama Bear we all knew was in you," he replies, satisfied.

Emily rolls her eyes, but she's touched.

"I'll kick you outta here," she threatens, but she's grateful for the visit.

Sia came earlier and Clyde is really the only other person she's "friends" with from work. Though Clyde brought a huge gift basket for her and the baby, claiming it was from the whole department.

"Just as soon as they bring your lunch," Clyde replies, turning to look out into the hallway, looking for a nurse. "I want your Jello."

Emily laughs.

"All yours," she replies, making a slight face.

"How can people not like Jello? It's bloody delicious," he replies indignantly.

"Well, more for you, then," Emily says.

Violet coos, her eyes moving slightly beneath her translucent eyelids. Clyde and Emily lean over.

"Is she waking up? Simply for my benefit?" Clyde asks, interested and nervous.

"Oh yes," Emily replies dryly. "I told her to be awake just for your visit."

Clyde smirks; their friendship allows for sarcastic jabs and teasing.

Emily already knows you're not supposed to wake a sleeping baby, but since Violet's in the stirs of waking, she picks her up.

She's only two days old and already Emily's arms itch to hold Violet all the time. Even when she's sleeping, Emily just wants the baby in her arms.

"Do you wanna hold her?" Emily asks, brow slightly raised.

"Er...," Clyde hums uncertainly.

"You won't break her," Emily grins. "Just cradle her. So far she seems to be pretty chill and content, so I doubt she'll cry."

Clyde stands up from his chair that's been occupied by Elizabeth for the last two days. He leans towards Emily and she carefully places her daughter into the man's arms.

"Oh," Clyde murmurs, sitting down so slowly, you'd think he was in slow motion.

Emily can't hide an amused smile at his discomfort.

"Well she barely weighs a thing," he says quietly, looking at Violet as though she's a new species; an interesting one.

"Yet somehow I looked like a planet when she was in my belly," Emily says dryly.

They both stare at the baby as her eyes slowly open and her dark eyes appear.

"I suppose she's going to have your terrifyingly dark eyes," Clyde teases.

Emily smacks his shoulder lightly.

"Terrifying in a good way!" he defends himself.

"Sure," Emily rolls her eyes.

"Well," Clyde adds, a small smile appearing on his lips. "At least you know she won't have the horrible green eyes of that wanker."

Emily scoffs a little laugh. She's grateful for Sia and Clyde's support when it comes to David, whom left for Paris a month after Emily had told him about the pregnancy. She hasn't heard from him since, and she doesn't expect to.

A moment later a nurse enters.

"Good afternoon, Ms Prentiss," the beautiful, chocolate-skinned woman smiles. "How's that sweet baby girl doin'?"

She smiles at Clyde, looking entertained but kind.

"You're sure she's healthy? She weighs nothing," he says to her.

"She's a slip of a thing but she's as strong as they come," Lorraine replies, setting lunch on Emily's tray. "Stubborn, too. Wonder where she gets it from..."

She raises an eyebrow at Emily, but it's obvious that Emily and Lorraine have a good rapport.

"You guys letting me out of here yet?" Emily asks.

"You tired of me already?" Lorraine replies.

"If that night nurse tries to take Violet one more time," Emily begins, exasperated.

"Oh, I told that old bag to give it a rest," Lorraine waves dismissively. "She likes to think she's in charge, but I think we all know who is."

She gives them both a look to insinuate that it is, in fact, herself who is in charge.

Emily grins.

Violet makes a sound, somewhere between a coo and a cry, so Clyde stands up as quickly as he dares.

"Alright, uncle Clyde's done for now," he says, leaning towards Emily.

She and Lorraine laugh, and Emily takes the baby.

"Eat your Jello and catch your breath," Emily teases.

"I don't think I could stand it if I made your baby cry," Clyde replies, sitting back down and peeling the foil top from the blue Jello.

"That wasn't a cry," Lorraine chuckles.

Clyde looks surprised but turns his attention to his snack.

"As it happens, Ms Emily, you are being discharged this afternoon," Lorraine tells her.

Emily's eyes close slowly in gratitude.

"Oh, thank god," she breathes. "No offence, Lorraine."

"None taken," Lorraine replies, giving Emily the side eye. "I'll be back in a bit."

* * *

"Mom, you didn't," Emily says, giving her mother an exasperated look as they travel in a cab, Violet asleep in the car seat between them.

"Of course I did,' Elizabeth replies with a frown. "Violet's here now and you cannot live in that apartment with the boxes everywhere. Moving up your move-in date in Italy was simply a must."

"What did you do to my poor realtor?" Emily asks, unimpressed because she knows how her mother can be when she wants her way.

"We had a conversation," Elizabeth replies with a slight shrug, pulling out her cell phone and clicking away.

"You made her cry, didn't you," Emily states.

"Emily," Elizabeth nearly gasps, giving her daughter a look. "I'm not a witch."

"Yeah, prove it," Emily mutters under her breath, looking out at the London streets.

* * *

"What can I get for you, dear?" Elizabeth asks her daughter.

She arranged a hotel for the three of them and had Emily's apartment packed up and sent ahead of them to Italy. They'll go tomorrow, on the train.

"I'm alright," Emily yawns. "Thanks."

"Dear, you need to sleep when she sleeps," Elizabeth advises. "Though I tried to do that with you, and you weren't very agreeable. Always up; had to see everything."

Emily almost grins. She looks at Violet, sleeping blissfully in the little bassinet.

"How are you feeling?" Elizabeth asks, looking at Emily carefully as though she can detect feelings.

"I feel like I got hit by a truck full of rocks," she says tiredly. "But I don't think I could actually fall asleep."

"Try," Elizabeth says softly; her expression is stern and motherly.

Emily considers arguing but she's even too tired for that.

Reluctantly she lies down on the bed and Elizabeth drapes a quilt over her.

Within moments Emily is asleep and Elizabeth grins to herself, shakes her head slightly, and goes back to her laptop.


	4. Chapter 4

"Take care with those bags," Elizabeth reminds the driver, as he reaches for the bags in the trunk of the taxi.

He smiles and nods before going ahead with his task.

"Mom, he's fine," Emily sighs, glad to be out of the car finally.

She looks down at Violet, swaddled close to her chest, and then raises her eyes to take in the villa before them.

"Lovely choice, Emily," Elizabeth appraises. "Did Jean-Pierre help you out with it?"

"Mmhmm," Emily hums as she nods, taking in the house.

The pictures had been beautiful but the house itself is amazing. Sia had summed it up best when she said it looked like a renovated version of the house in Under the Tuscan Sun. It's in a little neighbourhood, just a cluster of houses right outside town; close enough to be considered part of the town but far enough away to be quiet and peaceful.

"When will…what's her name? The housekeeper?" Elizabeth asks as they walk through the house.

"Lucia," Emily replies. "She should stop by today, Sia said."

Elizabeth nods, examining the open main floor.

A honk sounds and Elizabeth gestures to Emily that she'll go out to see.

"It's the movers," Elizabeth calls back. "Wonderful timing, gentlemen!"

Emily's mouth turns into a small grin at her mother's Italian chattering with the men outside as she and Violet walk through the house.

"Not a bad castle for a little princess," Emily murmurs, glancing down at Violet, asleep against her chest. She runs a finger over Violet's satin cheek. "Plenty of room for slaying dragons."

Violet sighs in her sleep and Emily smiles, adoring every little thing her daughter does. She's only two weeks old and already she's been to two countries.

Emily hadn't planned on travelling right after giving birth, but a couple of days at the hotel had been enough rest and she was eager to get far away from London.

She walks through the kitchen, out the French doors that lead to an open terrace.

The previous owners had loved flowers, planting all sorts of shrubs and potted plants around the backyard. Emily would make sure to have someone come and keep them alive. Lord knows she'd never been able to.

She can hear her mother's flawless Italian floating through from the front of the house as she directs the movers where to put things. Emily keeps wandering, exploring the perimeters of the house.

On the other side of the carefully manicured shrubbery is a vast field. Emily's yard is more or less fenced in with plants, trees, and shrubs, but her lungs fill and empty with relaxation as she takes in the large open space.

"Ciao," she hears a little voice.

She turns to see a little boy, maybe five or six years old, standing in the tall grass nearby.

"Buon giorno," Emily smiles.

He grins again, shyly, playing with a blade of grass.

"Do you live nearby?" Emily asks him in Italian.

"Si," he nods, pointing behind him to another large house, a short sprint away.

Someone from the backyard of that house calls out for Michel and the little boy goes bouncing off. Emily smiles and turns back to the field.

She bends down and picks one of the nearby potted flowers. A violet.

She inhales the familiar scent and grins before gently touching the silky flower to Violet's cheek.

The moment lasts only a second.

"Emily?" her mother calls.

Her head appears out the back door.

"The room on the left, for Violet?" she clarifies.

A hulking Italian man, one of the movers, appears behind Elizabeth, waiting for direction.

"Si," Emily nods. "With the yellow walls."

The man smiles and nods politely before disappearing.

"Oh, my," Elizabeth smiles, surprised, taking in the backyard. "Look at all this space."

Emily smiles.

"Not too bad for having no help from my mother, hm?" Emily teases.

Elizabeth tilts her head slightly, knowing. "I've never doubted your abilities, Emily," she says.

Emily gives her a look.

"What? I'm serious!" Elizabeth defends.

Emily just chuckles and joins her mother in looking out at the Italian countryside.

Violet coos, a soft little mumble, and a moment later a louder one and her open mouth let both Prentiss women know what she wants.

"Right on time," Emily says, amused, as she and her mother turn to go inside.

"That girl likes a schedule," Elizabeth nods approvingly.

She shows Emily to where she's already had one of the movers place a rocking chair in the front room, and Emily sits down to nurse Violet.

* * *

"It's a wonder how a mother managed without one of these," Elizabeth says in amazement, watching as Emily wraps Violet carefully in the sling around her front.

"I'm still scared she'll slip out," Emily mumbles, checking again that Violet is secure.

"Well she couldn't, dear," Elizabeth replies, stroking Violet's back as she sleeps in the Baby K'tan. "Look how snug she is."

Emily has to smile when she looks at her baby. Violet's hair, so thick and dark at birth, has only become more glossy and thick. Her inky blue baby eyes have adjusted to a beautiful dark green, and she's healthy and plump as babies should be.

Emily and Elizabeth walk away from the car, towards the town's market, to buy more things for the house.

"What have you told them about work?" Elizabeth asks, walking.

"Nothing, really," Emily shrugs. "They know I'm off for a year."

"Good," Elizabeth replies. "Though they'll try to coax you out of your leave early. You just watch."

"No," Emily murmurs. "I'm taking the full year. I want to be with Violet. I don't want someone else raising my baby."

She closes her mouth immediately, hoping her mother doesn't take offence to this.

Elizabeth chose to use nannies often in Emily's childhood, and Emily always swore she'd be around for her own children. It wasn't a jab at her mother, just now, but Emily knows her mother might see it that way and she's not in the mood for an argument. Things have been blissfully smooth since they left London and Emily would like it to stay that way, at least until her mother goes back to London.

"Maybe you should join a yoga class," Elizabeth suggests, surprising Emily by not responding to the nanny comment. "You might meet some other young mothers"

Emily follows her mother's gaze to the poster on the window of a yoga studio as they pass it.

"Maybe," Emily murmurs, turning back to the town.

They fall into step with each other again, heading for the market area.

"Listen, dear," Elizabeth says softly.

Emily steels herself for some scolding as she inhales as quietly as she can.

"If you need anything," Elizabeth begins, and Emily frowns slightly with surprise. "Make sure you call me. I know how stubborn you can be, but a new baby can be pretty scary and I don't want you to hesitate if there's something you're not sure about."

Elizabeth glances at her daughter, awaiting a response.

"Alright," Emily replies quietly.

Elizabeth smiles warmly and Emily returns it, pleasantly surprised by how well they've been getting along.

"I have to say, Emily," her mother sighs, looking around the little town as they walk. "You've really surprised me with how well you've done."

Emily half-frowns, considering the comment.

"_Really _surprised you?" she repeats.

"Well, I can't say I was expecting you to give me a grandchild so soon, let alone at all," Elizabeth shrugs.

She sees the furrows in Emily's brow.

"You've just always been so independent," Elizabeth goes on. "You never spoke of children."

Emily considers this for a moment.

"I've said that I wanted them," she replies. "Or at least one."

"Oh, but that was years ago," Elizabeth waves it off. "Ever since you finished school, you've just been working and then — well, David came along…"

Emily exhales.

"All I'm saying," Elizabeth rushes, "is that I'm very proud of you."

"Thanks," Emily dons a fake smile for a moment.

"Really, darling," Elizabeth says, placing a hand on Emily's shoulder so she's forced to stop.

Emily considers her mother's look and grants her a slight, small smile.

"Thank you," she repeats, genuinely this time.

Elizabeth smiles and a moment later a little boy on a bicycle whizzes past them as another little boy chases him on his own bike.

The Prentiss's move out of the way, Emily's ever-protective hand shielding Violet. They chuckle softly.

"Now," Elizabeth exhales, as though old business is done. "Let's see what this little town has for shopping."

Emily grins and rolls her eyes as her mother heads for the nearest shop. She shakes her head slightly, glancing down at Violet — still asleep — before following her mother.

* * *

"You must be Lucia," Elizabeth greets the doorbell warmly.

She and Emily haven't used their Italian much, so they're both feeling a little rusty, though none of the Italians have said anything.

"Si," the weathered but still pretty older woman smiles.

Elizabeth shows her to the living room. She offers her tea and begins to chat with the woman about her previous experience.

Though the CIA provides things like housekeepers and nannies, Elizabeth is not one to forego the questioning for herself.

By the time Emily arrives with a freshly bathed Violet, Lucia is going over her work history with Elizabeth.

"There they are," Elizabeth grins. "Lucia, this is my daughter, Emily, and my granddaughter, Violet."

Emily smiles and greets the woman in Italian.

Lucia's eyes light up as she sees Violet.

She coos at her and asks Emily in rapid Italian all about the baby.

"Have you hired a nanny?" Lucia asks, her tongue smoothly rolling out the Italian words.

"No," Emily shakes her head. "Not yet. I'm taking care of her until I go back to work."

Lucia smiles.

"Well, I will have no problem helping you with her, if you need it," she offers.

Emily smiles and nods.

She joins her mother in going over Lucia's work history. A short while later, Lucia is leaving for the night, promising to be back in the morning.

"Do I need a housekeeper?" Emily frowns, walking towards the kitchen after Lucia leaves.

"Of course," Elizabeth replies, as though the question is silly. "You needn't worry about things like cleaning up when you've got Violet to take care of."

"Women do it every day, Mom," Emily reminds her. "All over the world."

"Well, Prentiss' don't," Elizabeth replies plainly.

Emily has to chuckle at the blunt, snootiness of it.

"What?" Elizabeth asks, slightly indignant.

"Nothing," Emily shakes her head, smiling. "It's just funny, that's all. Sometimes you sound so…royal."

Elizabeth rolls her eyes slightly, setting the kettle on the stove.

She's known Emily her entire life so she's used to these kinds of statements.

"Tea, darling?" Elizabeth asks, changing the subject.

"Sure," Emily nods. "I'll just put Vi down."

She goes and lies the sleeping baby in her crib and returns as Elizabeth is steeping the tea.

She hands Emily a mug and they step out into the backyard, Emily's trusty baby monitor attached to her hip.

Elizabeth grins mischievously and Emily notices.

"What?" she asks.

Elizabeth nods her chin slightly.

"You're a natural mother," she says. "Look at you. Already swaying and it's only been two weeks."

Emily freezes, realizing that she's been swaying lightly, as though soothing Violet to sleep.

She grins and feels her cheeks redden slightly, from the joy her daughter brings her and from the compliment from her mother.

Elizabeth just smiles proudly and looks back out at the vast countryside, the stars twinkling brightly as Violet's rhythmic breathing floats into their ears.

"Not a bad place to a raise a child," Elizabeth murmurs, turning to smile at Emily.

Emily shakes her head once. "Not at all," she agrees and grins.


	5. Chapter 5

"Lauren!"

It takes Emily a moment before she realizes: she means me.

She looks up, smiling, at the pretty Italian woman walking towards her, swaddling her own baby as Violet sleeps against Emily's chest.

"I was hoping you'd make it today," Gisella says, spreading her yoga mat on the ground and sitting next to Emily.

To the women in the yoga class, she's Lauren, the pretty American woman who just moved into a villa on the outskirts with her new baby, Charlotte.

Her bio involves a cheating husband who left Lauren to raise Charlotte alone, so Lauren had packed up and moved to Italy. To write.

She has to feign "bad Italian," pretending to be an intermediate speaker, rather than the fluent one she is.

Emily smiles at Gisella and opens her mouth, hesitating with inner horror as she realizes that she was about to refer to Violet as her real name.

"Charlotte," Emily explains, "was cranky. I think she might have had a cold."

Emily's been in the small Italian town for two months now. She and Violet have adjusted well and Emily is in love with the town and their house.

She's always made a point of not attaching herself to the places where she's posted, but Atrani is too intoxicating. It's near the coast, giving the air a refreshing, salty aroma; the town is small and sweet and the people are friendly and respectful of Emily's desires to spend time alone, while being welcoming and warm when she does socialize.

"How is she now? Poor thing," Gisella replies sympathetically.

The two women look down at two-month-old Violet, who begins to stir in the sling.

"Better," Emily smiles. "Just an off day, I guess."

"My little Luca has many of those," Gisella says, rubbing the tiny bulge in her own sling. "He's quite temperamental."

Emily chuckles. She likes Gisella. The new mom is 26, close enough to Emily's age for them to share some interests, and she's patient as Emily "learns" Italian.

Remembering to stumble over certain words is a little new for Emily, who has never had to hide her language skills before.

But if it all works out smoothly, she'll be on Giovanni Abate's tail within a couple years. The infamous arms dealer is said to have a sprawling estate near Castiglione, and he's been on the CIA's radar for awhile. As soon as the elusive man returns to his villa, Emily will magically appear in his life and flirt her way into his trust zone. It's not a task she particularly enjoys, especially now with a baby to worry about, but she enjoys the concept of someone like Giovanni being put away.

Several other young mothers arrive and the little yoga class begins.

Violet wakes up but doesn't cry out, like some of the more touchy babies. She's content just to watch her mother and let her gaze wander around the room.

When the moms integrate their babies into the workout, Violet smiles in response to her mother's smiles.

"You've got a little yoga baby, Lauren," Aida, the instructor, smiles, as she wanders around the room, helping to correct positions.

Emily smiles graciously, lifting Violet above her and letting her own laugh ring out after Violet's baby giggle bubbles up from her belly.

After class, the women usually gather at a nearby cafe for lunch. Emily joins them as the six women and Aida chatter with lively voices about their children, their husbands, their families.

Emily is known as quiet but everyone still makes a point of including her, asking her questions. Most of them remember to speak a little more slowly for the "newbie," except for one snobby mother, Perla, who speaks as quickly as normal and even throws in some slang, almost spitefully, and whose baby is the kind of cute you see on the cover of parenting magazines. Nowhere near as gorgeous as Violet, in Emily's opinion, but mentioned often.

Older women passing their table at the cafe will often stop to remark about beautiful Dante, Perla's son, is. Though as soon as Dante is out of their sight, the same women always compliment Emily on her own beautiful baby with the longest eyelashes and prettiest eyes.

Emily isn't bothered by Perla's standoffish attitude, but Elizabeth, before she left several weeks ago, was noticeably offended by how the older ladies had praised and cooed over Dante, while ignoring her own granddaughter.

Emily had just grinned in amusement and a moment later one of the women came and fussed over Violet, asleep in Elizabeth's arms.

"So beautiful," the white-haired woman had cooed.

"Si," Elizabeth had smiled proudly. "Il bambino piu bella."

_The most beautiful baby._

The day Elizabeth left, Emily had a three-minute panic attack as she realized how very alone she was, left in charge of another human being without her mother there to make sure she didn't accidentally kill her own baby.

It had passed, though, as Emily reminded herself of how well Violet was doing; how the local pediatrician had praised both mother and baby.

"You got this," she'd murmured to herself, pacing the living room.

A moment later, Lucia had walked into the room, looking at Emily with a puzzled expression.

"I'm just talking to myself," Emily had assured the housekeeper. "Everything's fine."

Lucia had nodded slowly and returned to her work, leaving Emily to roll her eyes at her own ridiculousness.

Emily supposed she could rely on Lucia, should she have any kind of emergency regarding Violet, but she was never one to need or ask for help and she doesn't plan on changing that aspect of herself now. She's determined to raise Violet herself, to be a strong and independent woman. So she herself must be that woman.

Several of the usual old women, out for their daily walk and gossip session, approach the cafe. Violet is awake and sitting on Emily's lap, observing everything around her. Emily bites into a grin and bends down, pretending to grab something from Violet's diaper bag, as she sees Perla quickly lift a sleeping Dante from his stroller.

"Can't bear to miss a chance to brag about her baby," Gisella murmurs under her breath, so only Emily can hear.

She chuckles with Gisella, glad her eyes are covered by her sunglasses so she doesn't have to meet Perla's stuck-up stare.

"Are you writing a new book?" Gisella asks conversationally.

To the others, Emily has published several short stories and poems to the New Yorker. She plays the charade flawlessly.

"Trying to," Emily replies with a sigh. "With Charlotte, it's harder than I thought it would be to find the time."

"It is," Gisella nods with understanding. "Luca, he's one tiny baby but he's 24-hours worth of work."

Luca chooses that moment to squeal excitedly as he sees a passing dog; his fat arm bounces around and knocks over his mother's water glass, sending it shattering on the cement.

The other women laugh quietly with understanding as several of them bend to pick up the shards.

"See?" Gisella raises her brow to Emily. "Twenty-four hours."

* * *

As Emily walks home, carrying Violet out of the sling so she can see the lush greenery around her, she inhales the delicious air.

Her phone rings and she balances Violet with one arm as she reaches for it.

"Hi Mom," she answers, seeing the screen.

"Hello, darling," Elizabeth replies. "How are you doing?"

"We're fine," Emily replies, still strolling slowly. "Just walking home from town."

"You went to yoga?"

"Mmhmm."

"Oh, good. Violet knows the schedule, you know. It might have confused her. missing class the other day.

Emily chuckles.

"I'm sure it didn't," she replies. "In between screaming at me, she got to sit outside and discover ladybugs."

"Oh, those pictures were just lovely," Elizabeth remembers. "How is she today?"

"Blissfully content," Emily exhales, looking down at Violet, whose big eyes are taking in their surroundings. "She got her fair share of Old Italian Lady Love today, too."

"Well," Elizabeth begins, and Emily can hear the dryness to her voice. "Was Dante out sick? Couldn't make his appearance?"

Emily shakes her head, grinning.

"Oh, be sure to check the mail today, sweetheart," Elizabeth says suddenly. "I sent a little gift. It should be there today."

"A little gift?" Emily asks knowingly.

"Well," Elizabeth replies dismissively. "A necessary one, at least."

"Mother, you seem to think that a two-month-old having Armani shoes is a necessary gift," Emily says, brow raised and tone accusing.

"They were too adorable to pass up," Elizabeth answers, not the least bit regretful.

"They fit her for two weeks," Emily counters.

Elizabeth waves off the comment.

"Anyway, let me know that you receive it, otherwise I'll have to call the delivery company," she says.

Leave it to Elizabeth Prentiss to call whoever it takes to make her directions be carried out exactly as she ordered.

Emily can see a package waiting on her front step from a ways down the driveway.

"Check the mail, she says," Emily says to Violet. "Does she think we'd miss a package the size of a TV at our front door?"

She settles Violet into the sling, even though the baby fusses a bit at not being able to see everything.

Emily nudges the box and discovers it's not too heavy, so she uses her knee to slide it into the house. After putting Violet into her swing she goes about unwrapping the big parcel.

"Ohh," Emily breathes, once the box is visible.

The picture shows a mother and two children cuddled together in a big hammock.

"Well, this one might be necessary after all," Emily murmurs, looking over at Violet, who's attempting to see how many fingers she fit into her mouth. "Grandma wins this round, hey baby?"

Violet coos quietly and smiles through her chubby fist, and Emily laughs.


	6. Chapter 6

At nine months, Violet's maintained her smallness but the baby's beauty grows daily. Her large, dark emerald eyes are framed by eyelashes that everyone she meets seems to comment on. Her chubby cheeks glow and her dark hair has a slight wave to it.

Emily refuses to cut it, preferring to let it grow, rich and silky.

Their life in Italy is full and comfortable, just the right amount of quiet and excitement. Though excitement with a baby revolves mostly around baby birthday parties and playdates, and yoga classes and afternoons spent either playing with Violet or reading a book lying in the hammock out back.

Emily's wakes up almost as soon as Violet whimpers. She knows every aspect of her baby - which cries are real and which are the little coos that are gone within a moment; which sounds mean she's ready to get out of her crib and which adorable little murmurs mean she's just talking to herself, watching the mobile above her or chewing on the teething giraffe she loves so much.

This morning, at 3:00, Emily's eyes open to Violet's cries. She blinks tiredly and slowly sits up, recognizing the cry of Violet's that comes with alligator tears and red cheeks. Teething cries.

She goes to the kitchen and takes a cold teething ring from the fridge before going to Violet's room, wrapping her robe around her.

Her life - since university and work - has meant being used to a lack of sleep, so she blinks herself awake and sleep is forgotten as she walks in and sees Violet, sitting in a corner of her crib crying; huge tears rolling down her flushed cheeks as she sobs, with a finger in her mouth.

"Oh, baby," Emily soothes softly, reaching down to lift Violet.

The baby girl burrows her face into her mother's robe as Emily rubs her back, rocking her.

She walks over to the rocking chair and sits down, resettling Violet and handing her the teething ring. But Violet is cranky and tired and sore, and she ignores it, continuing with her cries.

_"Come Josephine, in my flying machine,_

_Going up, she goes, up, she goes..._

_Balance yourself like a bird on a beam,_

_In the air, she goes, there, she goes..."_

Her mother's singing calms Violet and after a few moments she takes the offered teething ring. Emily's rocking puts them both back to sleep, until a few hours later when Violet squirms, waking Emily up.

She changes Violet and gets her dressed before carrying her out to the kitchen.

"Should we go to the market today, sweet pea?" Emily says to Violet, setting her in her highchair.

Violet's response is banging her teething ring, now warm, against her highchair tray.

"I will take that as an affirmative," Emily replies, going to get the baby's breakfast.

She's tired, but it's the kind of tired that's become manageable. Like she can fall asleep easily, given five minutes of silence in the rocking chair or in bed, but she can function without.

The phone rings as she places a handful of halved blueberries in front of Violet.

"Hey Mom," Emily answers.

"You sound exhausted, sweetheart," is Elizabeth's greeting.

Emily exhales, watching Violet carefully coordinate a blueberry to her mouth.

"I'm fine," she replies.

"How's the teething coming along?"

"Front two on the top are coming in now," Emily answers. "Her cheeks are flushed all day, no matter what I do."

"You should try the whiskey, Emily. I'm telling you, it helped with you."

"I'm not giving my baby whiskey, Mom," Emily replies, rolling her eyes.

"Well it's not like she's going to _drink _it, Emily," Elizabeth says. "Just dip your finger in and rub it along her gums where the teeth are coming through."

Emily watches her baby, dark blue-purple fruit now smeared around her mouth and all over her chubby hands.

"We'll see," Emily yawns. "The teething rings help when they're cold, and she loves that giraffe."

"Well," Elizabeth says, and Emily can hear the smile in her voice. "Like mother, like daughter."

Emily smiles.

Elizabeth had never been one for reminiscing over Emily's babyhood and Emily had never really asked questions. But now, with Violet, she's learning little things that make her feel closer to her daughter, just knowing their similarities. Not to mention the baby pictures, where you can only tell it's Emily because of the photo quality of the early 70s.

"Once you fell in love with Sophie, everyone was sending giraffe-themed gifts," Elizabeth adds.

"Well Vi definitely loves them, too," Emily replies about the giraffes.

"Has Sia contacted you?" Elizabeth asks.

"She sent an email," Emily answers.

"About the case nearby?"

"Mmhmm," Emily helps Violet retrieve a fallen berry. "Not until next year, though."

"I suppose desk work wouldn't be a bad idea for now," Elizabeth thinks out loud - although she's brought this up several times.

"Not yet, Mom," Emily replies. Again.

"Well I'm not saying you should get a nanny and work 10 hours a day," Elizabeth explains.

"I know, I'm just not ready," Emily says. "She's changing so much right now. I don't want to miss anything."

Violet lets out a string of babbles; she has yet to say a real word yet but Emily always responds to her 'talking'.

"Yes, honey," Emily smiles at her, touching her cheek. "Blueberries."

Violet reaches out and picks one up. Emily's positive that the baby understands more than the other babies in town. She knows she's going to be smart.

"Let me call you back, I'll use the computer since she's awake," Elizabeth says.

Emily had planned on taking a bath - killing two birds with one stone by also cleaning the blueberries off Violet - but she relents, knowing her mother misses the baby.

A few moments later Emily's laptop is propped on the table and her mother's face appears.

She can't help but smile as her mother begins talking to Violet, who stares at the screen, entranced. It's adorable but also funny, seeing her mother - Ambassador Prentiss - talking animatedly to a baby. She forgoes the 'baby talk,' as Emily insisted, but she still talks to Violet in a tone and manner that is reserved specifically for her granddaughter.

"You are just the most beautiful girl," Elizabeth tells Violet, smiling widely as the baby giggles and then points, gurgling another string of 'words.' "Yes you are!"

Elizabeth looks to Emily, who's seated beside Violet, in lust with her cup of coffee.

"Still not back to her normal appetite?" Elizabeth asks.

"No," Emily rests her head against her palm, watching Violet, chewing her lip. "As soon as these teeth are done, she should be alright."

"Yes," Elizabeth agrees. "Growing teeth is hard work, isn't it, honey?"

She directs the last bit to Violet, who grins at the screen as she mumbles.

* * *

Cleaned and more awake, Emily carries Violet into the bedroom, both of them wrapped in a towel. She gets a diaper on Violet before setting her in her playpen so she can get dressed.

Once they're both dressed, Emily lifts her out and sets her on her feet with Violet clutching at her mother's fingers.

She's close to walking, even though she's only nine months old, but not quite ready to let go of Emily's hands. Slowly, Emily lets her 'walk' down the hallway.

"Good girl," Emily encourages, causing Violet to look up at her with a huge smile. "Yes, you're doing so good!"

They reach the living room and Emily gathers her purse while Violet busies herself with her toys on the carpet.

Emily searches for her phone.

"Your mommy's losing her mind, Vi," Emily murmurs, digging through the bag.

"Mummum," Violet replies.

Emily freezes and looks up to where Violet has pulled herself up, holding onto the coffee table where Emily is bent over, looking in her purse.

"What did you say?" Emily stares, her heart ready to leap.

"Mmmm," Violet replies, pushing her sore gums against each other.

"Are you trying to say 'mommy'?" Emily smiles, forgetting the purse and bending down to Violet's level. "Mama?"

"Mumma," Violet replies, pointing a chubby finger at Emily. "Mum."

Emily is helpless against the tears that fill her eyes as she stares at Violet, smiling with elation.

"Oh my god, baby," she cries, holding her arms out.

Violet smiles and leans forward, falling into them in her attempt to reach. Emily lifts her up and smiles through her tears, kissing Violet.

"You're so smart," she tells Violet, who grins at her mother and reaches out to touch her face.

"Mumma," Violet says again, laughing when her mother does.

"Yes, baby girl," Emily smiles, cradling Violet's head and kissing her satin cheek. "I'm your mama."


	7. Chapter 7

Emily stifles an entertained grin as she watches her mother talk to Violet over Skype.

"Come on, sweetheart. You can do it," Elizabeth coos. "Say 'grandma'!"

Violet chews thoughtfully on piece of tomato, observing her grandmother with a slightly dubious look on her face, almost side-eyeing Elizabeth. Between that face and Elizabeth's fervent desire for Violet's second word to be 'grandma,' Emily has to bite her lip to stop it from curving into a smile.

"Grandma!" Elizabeth says again.

Violet looks back at her mother with a look that says, _Is she serious?_, and Emily can't hold back a laugh at her baby's expression.

Violet looks back at the computer screen for a moment as Elizabeth repeats the word.

"Mamma," Violet says, pointing at Emily.

Emily feels her chest swell with pride and adoration.

"Oh, yes, sweetheart," Elizabeth says. "That's Mamma. I'm Grandma. Can you say Grandma?"

Emily has never seen Violet make such a face; her left eyebrow is slightly raised - the same one that Emily herself raises when she's unimpressed or nonplussed.

"Mamma," Violet repeats, looking down at the bits of food strewn across her high-chair tray.

She says it with finality as if hoping to hush Elizabeth. Emily laughs, out of Elizabeth's view.

"She looks completely annoyed with me," Elizabeth states, surprised and unimpressed.

"She's just hungry, Mom," Emily chuckles, sitting down to see her better. "I'm sure she'll be saying grandma any day now."

"I'm calling back in the morning," Elizabeth states. "She and I are gonna work on it."

Emily grins, shaking her head.

"I have to run, darling," Elizabeth says, looking down at her cell phone. "I've got a meeting. I'll talk to you both soon."

"Bye," Emily smiles as Elizabeth says goodbye to Violet, and then closes the laptop.

"You've got some serious expressions going on, baby girl," Emily says to Violet.

In response, Violet smiles, showing off the several teeth that have been pushing their way through. Emily laughs.

Violet holds up a steamed shred of broccoli, cut small enough for her, and babbles out some nonsense.

"Broccoli," Emily says.

Violet looks at the vegetable in her hand and then back at her mother for a second before she sticks the broccoli in her mouth.

* * *

"The teething, it is keeping her up?" Dr. Morello, Violet's pediatrician, asks Emily in accented English.

"Si," Emily nods. "Most nights she's up around 3, crying."

The pretty, dark-haired doctor, a warm-hearted woman in her early 40s, smiles at Violet as she attempts to see into her mouth. Violet turns her head away, not willing to give her a look.

"It's normal," Dr. Morello tells Emily. "You give her the teething medicine?"

"Yes," Emily replies, smoothing Violet's thick, wavy hair. "But I don't like giving her stuff that knocks her out like that, y'know?"

Dr. Morello nods and smiles again as Violet grins at her.

"Sei cosi bella, Charlotte," she coos to the baby. _You are so beautiful._

Emily's starting to worry that Violet will be confused, hearing everyone but her mother and grandmother call her 'Charlotte,' but whenever Emily says her name, she always looks up. She knows her name, Emily knows, but it's one more thing for her to worry about.

No one prepared her for the amount of worry that would come with having a baby.

"Those eyes," Dr. Morello smiles, looking to Emily. "Such a pretty colour."

Emily smiles, looking down as Violet attempts to look straight up at her.

"Okay, let's get the no-fun part finished, yes?" the doctor says.

Emily takes a quiet but deep breath. They're here for a checkup, yes, but also Violet's second round of vaccinations.

The first round had been awful, as Violet's happy face had morphed into one of agony and she'd screamed angrily.

"I hate this part of my job," Dr. Morello says, setting down the little tray of syringes. "I don't want my patients sick, but I hate to make them cry."

Emily smiles understandingly as she pulls Violet's chubby leg out.

When the doctor begins rubbing an alcohol wipe on her thigh, Violet begins to get anxious, as though she knows what's coming.

"It's okay, baby," Emily says quietly into Violet's ear, as she rocks her slowly. "It's okay."

"Pronto?" Dr. Morello asks Emily.

Emily takes another quiet breath and nods, tightening her hold on Violet.

Emily can feel the cry that's coming, and since she's still breastfeeding, her body reacts to the sound, too. She'd prepared for this and pumped beforehand but her body still registers the noise as a need.

The cry starts quiet, with surprise, but once given a chance to take a breath, Violet's furious cry bursts out at full volume. Emily hates the sound of it and the pain on her baby's face. Huge tears pool in Violet's eyes and fall perilously.

Emily's own eyes prickle but she's a pro at fighting them. She just soothes Violet, whispering into her ear and rocking her gently.

"Oh, tesoro," Dr. Morello says quietly, wiping tears from Violet's face.

But Violet's furious and eager to move. She turns away from the doctor, burying her face in her mother's chest and clinging with her fat little fists to Emily's shirt.

The doctor quickly wipes the injection site and places a bandaid on it before releasing the Prentiss's from their appointment.

Emily thanks her and stands to rock Violet as the doctor leaves.

"_Come Josephine, in my flying machine..._" Emily sings quietly, rubbing Violet's back as her cries slowly descend.

Hiccups take their place, jouncing the baby every few seconds. Emily slings her bag over her shoulder and leaves.

They walk home from the doctor's office, a short 15-minute walk to their villa.

Violet's fury has subsided and left her exhausted. She cuddles against her mother, burying her damp face in Emily's neck.

Emily walks slowly, smoothing her hand along Violet's hair and back, inhaling the baby fresh smell of her skin and talking quietly to her.

Once they get home, Violet's fast asleep. Emily finds her book and goes to lie in the hammock, with Violet asleep against her chest.

* * *

"Aw," Gisella frowns with empathy the next morning. "It's terrible, no? Luca had them last week."

She looks at Violet, happily sitting on the carpet with Luca, playing with the toys surrounding them.

Gisella is the person Emily sees most, though she won't let herself get attached to the friendship. She knows she could be moved to another country quickly and she doesn't want the feeling that comes with leaving behind friends. Plus, she doesn't want to hurt Gisella by her learning that "Lauren" is Emily and that her life, as Gisella knows it, is mostly a lie.

"It's awful," Emily shakes her head, watching Violet hold out a teething toy to Luca, who laughs and takes it.

It makes Emily smile.

"Dr. Morello's great, but I also kind of hate her during those appointments," she murmurs.

Gisella laughs.

"Si," she agrees. "She's wonderful doctor, but when my baby cries...ay. It makes my heart hurt."

Emily nods in agreement.

"Not to mention the first time, I didn't think to pump beforehand and I did not wear the bra with the...how you say?"

"Padding?"

"Si, yes," Gisella nods. "I forgot. I looked like I'd been dunked in the sea."

Emily laughs along with Gisella. She's glad they get along and that the babies like each other. She didn't realize how nice it would be to have someone who was experiencing so much of the same things as her.

"So, how is the book coming?"

Emily shrugs, playing her role as Lauren, the writer.

"Some days," she sighs, shaking her head, "the words just aren't there."

Gisella nods understandingly.

"I'm sure you just need to be inspired," Gisella says, reverting to her native Italian.

Emily nods.

"Go to the beach, take Violet to a museum," Gisella shrugs. "Maybe we all go?"

The warm, smiling woman raises her brow at Emily.

"Sure," Emily decides after a moment. "Yeah. That would be great."

"Fantastico!" Gisella smiles widely. "When shall we go?"

* * *

The drive to Naples takes just over an hour. They arrive just after noon and find a little cafe to have lunch at.

"What will you do once you're back in America and you crave real pizza?" Gisella teases, as they eat.

"Die a slow, painful death," Emily replies seriously, and then they laugh. "It's true, though. Food here makes the food in the US look like...garbage."

They laugh again.

While the babies 'talk' to each other, sharing their bits of fruit and vegetables and cheese, their mothers chat about Italy's best sights and what they should do with this stolen day in Naples. Pompeii and Vesuvius are high on Emily's list, so they head there after lunch.

* * *

"How's that for inspiration?" Gisella asks quietly.

She turns to look at Emily with a serene smile on her face. Emily returns the smile and looks forward again, at the amazing sight in front of them.

The odd statues and crumbling buildings of Pompeii give Emily a warm, ticklish feeling along her arms. Goosebumps, at the amount of history in front of her.

She's always been a history nerd and seeing Pompeii gives her a comfortable, satiating feeling.

She'd seen Venice and ancient Rome in her youth, but they'd never gone to this area of Italy.

She vows to make sure Violet gets to see it, too, once she's older, since, at nine months old, she's more concerned with chewing her giraffe than with the sights before her.

"Amazing, isn't it?" Emily murmurs.

"Sometimes I feel as though I can feel the history, you know?" Gisella says quietly in her heavily accented English. "I like the way it feels to be in such ancient places."

"Yeah," Emily smiles, surprised that someone else understands. "There's something soothing about it."


	8. Chapter 8

"Feeling inspired?" Gisella smiles, as they drive back into town.

"Yeah," Emily grins, glancing at her. "Thanks, that was amazing. I forgot how much I love traveling."

"I think sometimes we Italians take for granted how beautiful it is here," Gisella replies, staring out the window at the scenery.

Emily chuckles.

"It comes with any home town, or country, I think," she shrugs. "People are always so enamored with the States, but for the people who live there it just seems like old news."

"America always seems so special," Gisella nods. "Land of opportunity, no?"

"Apparently," Emily replies dryly.

She wishes she could talk to Gisella about how she spent her youth traveling around the world; of how she's lived in countries like Ukraine and Saudi Arabia and England; of how, in truth, she hasn't really spent that much time in her native America.

But she has to pretend that, as Lauren, she grew up in Connecticut and New York, and that Italy and the UK are the only other countries she's seen.

"You should travel more," Gisella says, coincidentally.

Emily smiles.

"I have family in Malta and in Greece," Gisella goes on. "I take Luca whenever I can. I want him to see the world."

Emily smiles warmly, glancing into the backseat where both babies are sleeping soundly.

"Me too," she murmurs. "I want Violet to see everything."

"Then you must follow your heart," Gisella grins. "Wherever it tells you to go."

They drive in comfortable silence for awhile, admiring the countryside that surrounds their little town.

Gisella's phone rings and she begins speaking rapid Italian with her husband, telling him of their impromptu trip to Naples.

Emily looks again, this time in the rearview mirror, at Violet, sleeping in her car seat.

The baby's impossibly long lashes rest upon her plump, satiny cheek.

It makes Emily smile, just looking at her, and she imagines what kind of person her daughter will grow up to be; if Emily will end up moving her around all the time; if they'll be close or not. She likes to imagine Violet's life being pain-free and perfect, but she knows it's unreasonable.

She knows that she herself will never tire of hunting down the aptly named 'bad guys,' and that she'll keep going, no matter what, so she can feel like she's making Violet's world a better place.

* * *

At home, Emily sets Violet in her crib. She's slept through her usual dinner time; the excitement of the day trip had made Violet skip her usual nap time. Her sleep in the car has stretched on and Emily knows it means that she's in for a late night tonight.

She reads some emails while Violet sleeps, replying to Sia and Clyde, catching up and reading intently about their latest cases. Part of her misses the thrill of the job, but a bigger part of her wouldn't want to be anywhere but with her baby.

She replies to Sia, congratulating her on her recent success with a particularly difficult case and then takes a cup of tea, a book, and the baby monitor out to the backyard.

She sits at her patio table and looks out at the countryside, dimly lit by the intensely starred sky.

Gisella was right - people do take their known environment for granted. Emily still marvels at the Italian scenery but, growing up, she'd become immune to the foreign allure of her homes. Everything was old news.

She smiles, remembering Violet staring around the museum today; dazzled by the sights around her.

The phone rings, bringing her out of her trance.

"Hi Mom," she answers.

She sits and listens to her mother tell her, in detail, about the impossibly long day she's had at work; the new assistant who can barely speak French; the incompetent ambassador for the US; and the ridiculousness of a grown adult's ability to act like a child.

"How he rose to that position is far beyond me," Elizabeth finishes, rolling her eyes about a particular coworker. "Perhaps I should apply for a new post."

Emily chuckles. It's not the first time her mother has hinted at living closer to Emily and Violet.

As much as she loves her mother, she loves her a lot more when she's a few countries away.

"I think you'll find that with any job, Mom," Emily tells her. "No job is free of idiots."

"Unfortunately," Elizabeth sighs. "How is my darling granddaughter?"

"Sleeping."

"Sleeping," Elizabeth repeats, confused. "It's 6:00 down there."

"We made a little day trip to Naples, with Gisella and Luca," Emily explains. "Her nap got delayed and she hasn't woken up yet."

"Well that sounds lovely," Elizabeth smiles. "What did you see?"

Emily tells her mother about their day, making sure to add little details that she wouldn't mention to other people, since no one else adores Violet the way her mother does. She tells her of the way Violet had shrieked with glee when a woman walking an Italian mastiff had walked by and Violet had wanted to touch him; or how her eyes had widened, even larger in her perfect face, when they'd stood before Pompeii.

"Already has a taste for history, it seems," Elizabeth teases. "Like mother, like daughter."

Emily smiles.

"I think she was just taken by all of the things she'd never seen before," Emily replies. "Though I love that she's not afraid of dogs. This one was the size of a small horse and she just wanted to grab him. The owner just laughed. She said most people in general are scared of her dog."

"That baby has an old soul," Elizabeth replies, missing her granddaughter viscerally.

"I think you're right," Emily murmurs.

It's quiet for a moment and then Violet announces her awakening through the baby monitor.

"Well, speak of the angel," Elizabeth says.

Emily stands up, gathering her book and mug.

"She's probably pretty hungry," Emily says, going inside.

"Alright, sweetheart, I'll let you go," Elizabeth says. "Kiss my girl for me. I love you."

"Love you," Emily replies.

She sets everything down and pads down the hall to Violet's room.

She finds her daughter sitting up, content as she sucks on her soother.

She'd stopped announcing her wake ups with cries around five months, and since then, save for the nights of painful teething or not feeling well, Violet usually wakes up and just babbles to herself until her mother comes to get her.

"Hi sweetpea," Emily smiles, approaching the crib.

Violet smiles through her soother, reaching her arms up happily.

Emily wraps her in her arms, inhaling her sweet smell as she kisses her cheek.

"That was a long sleep, huh?" she murmurs.

She carries Violet to her change table and plucks out the soother. She only lets her have it to sleep with, not wanting her to become attached.

"Did you have fun in Naples today?" Emily talks to Violet as she changes her diaper.

Violet replies with a string of her own words.

"You were such a good girl," Emily says. "Do you remember the big dog?"

Violet sucks on her fingers, her cheeks slightly red from teething.

Emily carries her out to the kitchen and feeds her, before they go sit in the living room, where Emily keeps all of Violet's toys. She refuses to let the TV be the babysitter. She wants Violet to play with puzzles and books rather than stare at the screen.

The long day proves to be too much for Violet, though, and after an hour of playing she's rubbing her eyes, ready for sleep. Emily is all too willing to turn in.

* * *

Emily's eyes open. She lays there and waits. She assumes she woke up because she heard Violet, but several moments pass and the baby makes no noise.

Frowning, Emily rolls over and looks at the clock. It's 3:42 in the morning.

She gets up and goes quietly to Violet's room, wondering if her daughter is awake but just being quiet. But she finds her baby fast asleep; her tiny form visible by the dim nightlight.

Suddenly she hears a crack, quiet but close by, as though someone is in her backyard.

She freezes and listens.

She hears the sound of something hitting the patio floor outside.

Automatically, she walks back to her bedroom. She's quick and silent. She reaches underneath her side table, where she has one of her guns hidden, its holster screwed into the underside of the top drawer.

She clicks the safety off and heads towards the hallway, her pulse quickening.

She steps into Violet's room and double-checks the locks on the windows. They're locked, as usual.

She leaves her baby's room and goes towards the noise. Quiet footsteps and the crackle of twigs and leaves.

It's too dark for anyone who doesn't know the layout of her house to get around, but she's lived here long enough to not need lights to know exactly where to step and where to turn. Moonlight gently lights up the living room and kitchen. She pauses near a corner to stare out the patio doors.

Her pupils dilate, trying to see every last detail.

It's silent.

Emily steps forward, towards another corner, her gun at her hip and ready.

Could someone have found her? A past job coming back to get revenge? Or is it just someone hoping to rob the place?

She focuses on the patio door knobs, grateful when she sees that she did, in fact, lock them before bed.

She hears another crunch of footsteps as she steps towards the doors.

She peers through the slit of door and curtain where she can see a small area of the patio.

A shadow moves to her right, near the trees that hold the hammock.

She expertly controls her breathing, despite her heightened pulse, and reaches for the doorknob.

She slowly turns the handle and tightens her grip on the gun.


	9. Chapter 9

Carefully, Emily opens the patio door. Her eyes dart around expertly, looking for any hint of movement.  
Again, she hears a couple of light footsteps. She brings her gun up from her hip and cups her left hand around her right, steadying the weapon. A quiet noise at her five o'clock makes her spin around, gun poised and ready.

Her heart pounds and her eyes pop open even wider as she comes face to face with a pair of big blue eyes. The terror in them is clear. Emily quickly lowers her gun.

"Luciano," Emily says quietly, stepping towards the little boy who lives next door.

She's only met him and his older brother, Gaetan, a couple of times, and her relationship with their mother doesn't extend beyond polite greetings and smiles when they see each other. Their villa lies a fair distance away; close enough for Emily to hear them when they're loud but far enough for each family to have privacy.

"Cosa stai facencdo qui?" Emily asks, kneeling down so she's eye level. _What are you doing here?_

The little boy's eyes stay wide and terrified but he opens his mouth and his voice is barely above a whisper.

"Mamma," he begins, still crouched near the side of the house near some bushes. "She's hurt."

"What happened?" Emily asks, ignoring the careful Italian she uses around other people and speaking expertly.

Luciano shakes his head.

Frowning in confusion and worry, Emily turns to look towards the boy's home. It's dark, with only a dim light coming from inside.

"Where's Gaetan? Emily asks.

Luciano only points towards the house again.

"Come here," Emily says gently, holding out a hand. "It's okay."

Luciano swallows and considers this for a moment before moving to stand up. Emily helps him to his feet.

"Where's your father?" Emily asks.

"Lavoro," Luciano whispers.

The boys' father works out of town; gone for 10 days and then home for a week.

"Just Gaetan and your mamma are home?" Emily makes sure.

Luciano nods.

Emily takes his hand and stows her gun in the pocket of her old Yale hoodie. She steps into her kitchen and picks up the baby monitor that is plugged in there. Then she closes the patio door and locks it with the key she keeps hidden.

She leads the little boy towards his house.

* * *

"Gaetan?" Emily calls out, as she and Luciano enter the back door of the house.

Emily looks around the messy kitchen. Dirty dishes and empty containers litter the counter space. No one has cleaned in awhile.

"Gaetan, it's Signora Reynolds," Emily calls out again.

Luciano chews nervously on the fingernails of one hand while his other grips Emily's palm tightly.

She follows the dim light and discovers the stairway leading upstairs.

She can hear murmuring so she starts up the stairs. Luciano freezes, not moving.

"It's okay," Emily assures him, but he shakes his head.

Emily steps down and bends so that she's eye level.

"Wait right here," she tells him, gently but firmly, as she points to the bottom stair. "I'll be right back."

He chews his lip again but then nods, sitting down and hugging his knees.

Emily goes up the stairs, following its wide U-shape. She can see light falling dimly towards the hallway from the room at the end.

When she gets closer she can hear a slight whimper.

"Mamma," a little voice begs. "Per favore!"

Emily enters the room and sees Gaetan, on the floor of the en suite bathroom.

"Gaetan," she says quietly, not wanting to startle him.

His head jerks around to see her. His eyes, wide and blue like his little brother's, register recognition and Emily sees a hint of relief.

"What's going on?" she asks him.

His full eyes just turn to look into the bathroom.

Emily reaches the doorway. Her lips part and her eyes widen but she masks the most of her surprise and fear, not wanting to scare Gaetan any more than he already is.

Elena lies on the floor of the bathroom, curled into a ball. Her skin is a deadly pallor and there's a pool of blood beneath her. It's half-darkened and drying, congealing, while a fresher area appears bright and new.  
"Elena," Emily says, reaching the woman and cupping her cheek, tipping it up towards her. "What happened?"

Despite the cool temperature, Elena's skin is hot beneath Emily's palm.

"Il bambino," Elena manages in a forced whisper.

Emily's eyes look down again. Her toes are in the blood, sticky and lukewarm beneath her.

"Gaetan," Emily says firmly, turning to look at him. "Bring me the telephone."

Gaetan hesitates, paralyzed by fear.

"Va bene, tesoro," Elena rasps tiredly.

Gaetan obeys reluctantly.

"How long have you been bleeding?" Emily asks, looking directly into Elena's half-closed eyes.

"Last night, after the boys went to bed," Elena replies quietly, her arms wrapped around herself. "I couldn't reach the phone. Gaetan wouldn't leave me. Where is Luciano?"

"He came to get me," Emily tells her.

Gaetan returns, holding out Elena's cell phone to Emily, and then sits beside his mother again, just beyond the circle of blood.

"It's okay," Emily assures him. "It'll be okay."

* * *

Ten minutes later, paramedics are hurrying up the stairs. They demand answers from Emily, who forgets that she should be less than fluent in Italian, and responds with what she knows.

"Who are you?" one of them asks, as he places an oxygen mask over Elena's face.

"The neighbour," Emily replies. "Luciano came to get me."

The medics get Elena onto a stretcher and wheel her towards the stairs.

"Does she have a husband?" the paramedic asks, as they wheel Elena through the doorway towards their waiting ambulance.

"Si," Emily nods. "He works out of town. I'm sorry, I don't know much else."

He nods.

"It's okay," he assures her.

Gaetan and Luciano huddle near the door. Gaetan, the big brother, does his best to hold back his years while Luciano's cheeks are streaked with them.

"The boys," Emily begins.

"Do they have family in town?" the paramedic asks.

"I…" Emily begins and then shrugs sadly. "I don't know."

"Mamma!" Luciano cries, darting towards his mother, being lifted into the ambulance.

Emily knows the boys will just be placed in a waiting area for hours while their mother is cared for. She jogs towards the ambulance.

"Elena," she says. "The boys, they can stay with me."

Elena's teary eyes meet hers.

"Thank you," she breathes gratefully through the oxygen mask.

The second paramedic tries to hold Luciano back but the little boy fights to get to his mother.

Emily reaches for him and speaks gently into his ear.

"Your mamma just needs to go see the doctor to make sure she's okay," she tells him. "Go give her a kiss and then you have to stay here, with Gaetan."

Luciano listens to her and then flings himself upon his mother, but the blood loss and exhausting have taken over and Elena is out.

"Mamma!" Luciano cries.

Emily pulls his hand towards her and lifts him from the ambulance and a moment later, the doors are slammed shut.


	10. Chapter 10

Emily's woken up the next morning by Violet's cries.

Her eyes open slowly and with effort. She eyes the clock; 6:03.

The memories of Elena and her sons floods her mind as she slowly gets out of bed. Violet's cries are already telling Emily that her teething is especially painful this morning. She finds Violet sitting up, crying, with one hand pushed into her mouth.

"Oh, honey," Emily murmurs, sorry for her daughter.

She lifts her baby and presses her lips to Violet's warm forehead, inhaling her baby smell. She changes her and carries her from the bedroom. She detours from her usual path to the kitchen and glances in the living room. Gaetan and Luciano are fast asleep, looking even smaller than they are, curled into the large sectional couch.

Exhausted, Emily walks to the kitchen and immediately grabs a teething ring from the freezer. She tries to sit Violet in her high chair by the baby is cranky and clings to her mother, not about to let her put her down.

"Alright, baby," Emily murmurs, rubbing Violet's back.

She gets Violet's breakfast ready and brews a pot of coffee. When she hears keys in the front door, she frowns for a moment before she realizes that it's Friday; Lucia will be coming to clean today.

_Thank god, _Emily thinks to herself.

She's been lazy about cleaning up over the last two days.

"Oh!" she hears Lucia gasp.

"In here," Emily says, stepping into the hallway so Lucia can see her.

Lucia eyes the sleeping boys again before carrying on.

"The Dioli boys?" Lucia questions, her brow furrowed.

"Luciano woke me up in the middle of the night," Emily explains, placing a bowl of halved blueberries on Violet's high chair tray before settling Violet in it. Thankfully she doesn't cry. "Elena miscarried. The boys found her on the bathroom floor."

"Dio mio," Lucia gasps.

"I mean, there was a lot of blood and she'd been there for a few hours," Emily adds. "I'm not a doctor, but I don't see how you can lose that much blood and be okay."

"That poor woman," Lucia shakes her head slowly, setting her purse down.

Emily nods into the silence. She's tired and she's sad for Elena, and all she wants is a nap. And maybe a time machine.

"Oh, the teething is bad today?" Lucia notices Violet's cheeks.

Emily nods, sipping her coffee with one hand while the fingers of her other hand are grasped by Violet.

"Gonna be a long day," Emily sighs.

"You sleep," Lucia replies. "I will look after the children."

Emily considers this.

"Not just yet," she decides. "Violet's a little clingy this morning, and I should be awake when the boys wake up. They'll be upset and confused, probably."

Lucia nods understandingly and then begins cleaning.

* * *

"Signora Reynolds?" the voice on the phone says.

"Si," Emily replies.

"My name is Vera Garro, I'm Elena's sister," the woman goes on.

"Oh! Hi. How is Elena?" Emily replies.

"She's going to be alright," Vera replies quietly. "She told me that you had the boys?"

"Si," Emily answers. "They're still asleep."

"Thank you so much for taking care of them," Vera says gratefully. "I'm sorry for the imposition. I wish I lived closer."

"It's not a problem," Emily assures her. "I'm just glad that Luciano came and woke me up."

"Yes, thank goodness," Vera agrees. "They're keeping Elena overnight. She's just fallen back asleep so I was going to come and get the boys."

"Okay," Emily says. "Has Elena, um…the baby?"

"God has taken her back," Vera replies quietly.

Emily always sees the Diolis going to church on Sundays. She knows they're religious and that Elena's husband judges Emily a little for not going to church.

"I'm so sorry," Emily tells Vera.

"If not for you, and for Luciano waking you up, we may have lost Elena as well. Our family will be forever grateful."

Emily's chews her lip, unsure of what to say.

"I'm leaving the hospital soon. I should be there before lunch," Vera goes on.

"Alright," Emily replies. "I'll make sure the boys are ready."

Emily wanders into the living room. Violet has fallen back asleep, snuggled against her mother.

Gaetan and Luciano are still out cold. The trauma exhausted them and even Violet's cranky cries hadn't woken them up.

Emily considers going next door to find clean clothes for the boys, but she doesn't know the family well enough and she's sure that Vera will go there with her nephews.

* * *

Within the hour, Vera's car pulls up. The boys are only beginning to stir.

Emily answers the door and exchanges greetings with a beautiful young woman who resembles Elena very much.

"Oh my goodness, Elena said you had a beautiful baby," Vera smiles a little sadly at Violet, asleep in the baby sling across Emily's front. "She was right."

She smiles down at Violet.

"I'm so sorry about the baby," Emily says.

Vera smiles gratefully; sadly.

"Me too," she nods. "Elena was so happy to be having a girl."

"Zia?" they hear a little voice.

They look over to see Gaetan rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Il mio amore," Vera smiles, holding out her arms as Gaetan scrambles off the couch. "Are you alright?"

Gaetan nods into his aunt's shoulder as he clings to her.

"How is Mamma?" he asks timidly.

"She's going to be just fine," Vera promises. "She misses her boys so much. I've already gotten some clean clothes for you both. Why don't you wake up your brother and get changed?"

Gaetan takes the little backpack that Vera offers and goes to wake up Luciano.

"And brush your teeth! Your toothbrushes are in there, too!" Vera calls out.

Emily invites her to sit, offering her some tea which Vera gratefully accepts. As Emily returns with the mugs, Violet begins to complain and wriggle in the sling.

Emily sits down and extracts Violet from her little cocoon.

"My goodness, look at those pretty eyes," Vera smiles, once Violet is lifted out and looking around.

Surprised by the new face, Violet just stares.

"Aye, teething," Vera makes a face. "Such a hard time."

Emily nods, taking a breath. "She's had some pretty rough days. But she's a trooper."

Vera tilts her head, confused by the term. Emily remembers that English as a second language isn't always caught up on slang.

"Oh, um, a champion. A little fighter," Emily clarifies.

"Ah," Vera smiles, nodding.

"Your English is very good," Emily remarks.

"I am a teacher," Vera explains. "It was part of my university training."

While the women chat about college and languages, Violet chews on a teething ring and observes this new stranger.

"May I?" Vera asks, when she can't bear it anymore.

She's been itching to hold the baby.

"She's a bit fussy today, but we can try," Emily chuckles.

Vera holds out her hands and smiles at Violet, cooing at her to come see her. When she doesn't fuss, Emily lets Vera take her and settle her on her lap.

Violet looks up at this new person once Vera has her settled on her lap, facing Emily.

"Hello beautiful," Vera murmurs in Italian.

She talks to Violet and the baby just stares, looking half-interested and half-unsure.

"She looks stunned!" Vera laughs.

"I think it's your hair," Emily chuckles. "She doesn't see blonde very often."

"Ah," Vera nods.

She looks at Violet and holds a handful of her thick blonde hair.

"Biondo," she tells Violet. "Can you say?"

With Emily, Violet will chatter on all day, but she refuses to make a sound for Vera.

Instead she glances back at her mother and then at Vera once more before she leans away from her and holds her arms out to her mother.

"Ah, mamma's little girl," Vera grins.

Emily smiles, settling Violet back on her lap.

A moment later, Gaetan and Luciano appear, changed but still looking tired and sad. Emily can't blame them.

"All ready?" Vera asks, running her hand through each boy's hair and kissing his forehead.

"Si," they mumble, suddenly more shy in front of Emily.

"It was very nice of Signora Reynolds to help you and your mamma," Vera hints.

The boys nod.

"Grazie, Signora," Gaetan speaks first.

"Grazie," Luciano echoes, meeting her eyes.

She smiles warmly.

"No problem," she replies. "I'm always here if you need help, okay?"

Luciano buries his face shyly into his aunt's sweater but Gaetan nods solemnly.

"Please let me know how Elena is doing," Emily says to Vera, as they walk to the door.

"Of course," Vera promises. "She's so grateful to you, I know she'll want to come and say so herself."

Emily nods and a moment later they're gone.

Violet leans forwards so she can watch them leave, and Emily has to smile at her silent interest.

They go back inside and Emily hears the phone ring. Exhausted, she blinks slowly, knowing that it'll be her mother and that she'll want to chat for awhile.

She takes a breath and eyes the caller ID, and a moment later she turns off the ringer and heads outside to the hammock.


	11. Chapter 11

"Move?" Elizabeth frowns, pausing in her work as she sits at her desk.

She's stationed in London now, and she misses Paris already.

"Just a few hours north," Emily replies, watching as one-year-old Violet toddles in front of her on the patio. "Near Verona."

"Whatever for?" Elizabeth inquires, leaning back in her chair.

"Clyde said they're tracking Abate," Emily replies.

"Giovanni Abate?" Elizabeth is surprised to hear the name of the infamous arms dealer.

"Yeah," Emily replies with a light scoff.

She'd been surprised too, when Sia and Clyde had called to tell her about her new station.

"They think he's in Ireland right now," Emily goes on, following closely behind her little daughter as she wanders; stopping to occasionally observe a bug or pick at a flower. "But word is he'll be heading back to his villa within the next year."

Elizabeth takes in the news. She's always concerned about Emily's work, but northern Italy is closer to London than Amalfi. For this, she can be grateful.

Emily quickly presses the phone against her cheek with her shoulder so she can bend down to steady Violet as she wobbles on the cobblestone patio.

"It's probably for the best," Emily exhales. "Ever since everything with Elena and the boys...besides, I don't want to get attached to anyone here. And I don't want Violet to, either."

"She needs friends," Elizabeth replies.

"I know," Emily says, a little annoyed. "She'll always have friends. I just mean that Gisella and Luca visit a couple times a week and I don't... Gisella's sweet and normal and kind. She doesn't need someone like me in her life, living a lie."

"Emily," Elizabeth murmurs.

The phone falls as Violet takes a tumble and Emily instinctively reaches for her, letting the phone crash to the stone ground.

"Shit," she mutters, lifting Violet into her arms as the baby decides whether or not she's going to cry. "Hold on, Mom...you okay, baby?"

Violet looks more stunned than anything and she didn't fall hard enough to hurt herself. Emily leans down, Violet in her arms, and retrieves the phone.

"Hello?"

"What happened?"

"Violet fell," Emily replies. "I dropped the phone."

"Is she alright?"

"She's fine," Emily replies.

She can feel herself getting impatient with her mother so she decides it's probably best to let her go for now.

"I've gotta run into town," she makes up. "Get some groceries. I'll talk to you later, alright?"

"Alright, dear. Kiss Violet for me."

Emily carries Violet into the house and sits her on the counter, checking more closely to see if she managed to scrape herself in her fall.

"No ouch?" Emily murmurs, taking Violet's chubby legs in her hands and looking for a wound.

"No ouch," Violet repeats.

Emily smiles at her. The baby's vocabulary started with 'Mamma,' and has grown to include more and more words. She learns so fast it makes Emily's head spin, but she's prouder than any mother could be.

"Are you hungry?" Emily asks, looking at the clock.

Almost 11:00.

Violet rubs her pudgy hand against her torso, the sign for 'please.'

Emily had begun teaching her basic sign language a couple months ago, so she could communicate better with her since she still couldn't really talk.

Violet knows and uses the signs for 'please,' 'thank you,' 'more,' and 'done,' and her verbal skills are improving daily.

Emily chuckles at her daughter's eager 'please,' and lifts her into her arms.

"Let's see," Emily murmurs, looking into the fridge.

She pulls out several containers and sets Violet in her high chair with a handful of halved grapes in front of her so she can get her lunch ready.

"Mamma," Violet babbles.

When Emily turns to look at her, Violet just smiles and then giggles, a sound so sweet that Emily's made sure to get several videos of it, so she'll never have to forget it's cadence.

Emily laughs back and Violet returns to eating her grapes.

* * *

"Oh, no," Gisella frowns, as the two women sit at a cafe the next afternoon.

Emily averts her eyes, feeling the now-familiar pinch of guilt over lying to a woman she considers a good friend. Her newest lie involves "Lauren's" sister, "Julia," moving to France, and needing Lauren to come live with her. Emily uses financial issues as the fake sister's need for help.

Gisella is, as expected, sympathetic but saddened by the news.

"When do you go?" Gisella asks.

"In a few weeks," Emily replies, focusing her eyes on Violet, who is asleep in her lap while Luca, Gisella's son, busies himself with a tray full of prosciutto and melon.

"Oh, Lauren," Gisella sighs, reaching out to squeeze Emily's hand. "We will miss you and Charlotte."

"We'll miss you, too," Emily assures her, meeting her friend's eyes meaningfully.

She hesitates over almost saying Violet's name, but corrects herself, blaming it on an itchy throat. She takes a drink of coffee.

"Charlotte loves Luca so much," she tells Gisella. "She'll miss playing with him."

Gisella nods in agreement, glancing at her beautiful baby boy.

"So much for the two of them growing up together and getting married," Gisella teases, giving Emily a playful grin.

Emily laughs. She actually had enjoyed that little story whenever Gisella would talk about it happening.

"Perhaps one day, they'll meet again," she suggests.

This makes Gisella laugh and the heaviest of Emily's guilt ebbs away slowly.

* * *

Elena, Emily's neighbour, walks the short distance between their houses, calling out Emily's name.

Emily looks up from her book and smiles, bookmarking the page. She stands up as Elena reaches the patio.

"I hear you are leaving us," Elena smiles kindly.

She and Emily have been more friendly since Elena's miscarriage, several months ago, but they've never become close. Emily knows it's partly because of Violet. Elena lost her own little girl and Emily's shines brightly, beautiful and alive. It must hurt the woman.

Emily tilts her head slightly.

"Gossip," Elena shrugs with a smile. "You know how women are."

Emily smiles and nods.

"I suppose it could be worse," she jokes. "But yes. Charlotte and I are moving north."

"We will be sorry to see you go," Elena says, her smile wavering and her words heartfelt. "Truly. My family will forever be grateful for your help."

Emily smiles politely; a little shy.

"How are the boys?" she asks.

Elena rolls her eyes good-naturedly.

"Driving me crazy," she chuckles. "My floors are never clean with two little boys running around."

Emily grins.

Elena produces a wrapped package that Emily hadn't noticed. She glances from the offered gift to Elena with questioning eyes.

"It's just little," Elena tells her. "To say thank you."

Emily unwraps it to find a beautiful carved statue that is roughly the length of her hand.

"It is Juno," Elena explains softly.

"The goddess of marriage and childbirth," Emily murmurs.

"And motherhood," Elena adds, wanting emphasis placed here. "I might not still be here to be a mother to my children if not for you. I wish only happiness for you and Charlotte."

Emily blinks, surprised to feel the light sting of tears. Elena smiles warmly.

"Elena," Emily begins, glancing down at the carving.

Elena steps forward and envelopes Emily's hands, and the statue, in her own.

"Thank you, Emily," she murmurs.

Emily swallows, her gaze meeting Elena's warm, dark-chocolate eyes.

"You're welcome," she replies.


End file.
